


The Flow Of Life

by Kimmimaru



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Second Person, mentions rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6591583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimmimaru/pseuds/Kimmimaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of brief drabbles of a few of my fave FF7 characters slightly before the events of Advent Children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Flow Of Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reno POV

It's the pain that makes you go to him. The pain and the humiliation. It makes you feel alive, it makes you forget. Forgetting is harder when you're alone, sitting in the dark and listening to the sounds of breathing from your fellows. When you're alone you can't make the voices stop, the voices of those you killed. Thousands. Thousands of voices all screaming in terror as the plate falls. Guilt is not an emotion you're used to, it has never affected you before but ever since the day the lifestream leapt up from the earth to destroy Meteor you've been carrying the weight of all those souls with you. The only time you're not hearing them scream is when he's got you pinned to a desk, when he's tied your hands together and fucking you into oblivion. No preparation, no words, nothing but pain and pleasure mingled into one confusing ball inside your chest. You think you're going to burst or cry but you don't because Rufus ShinRa isn't the kind of man you cry in front of, and anyway you think you've forgotten how. 

When you saw the green light sweeping up from the earth beneath your feet you saw the faces of those you had killed, you saw them twisted in anger and pain and it haunts you. There's no escape from it except when you're in his arms, when he's got you by the throat and is squeezing the breath from you. No one understands, how could they? You know Rude worries, even if he never says anything, you can see it in his face when he looks at you. You know Elena's confused, she's not been a Turk long enough to know how guilt can destroy a person. Tseng watches you, he too is worried but like Rude he never speaks of it. No one does. It's a secret that's not a secret. Rufus knows. Rufus understands your desperate need to remember what being alive feels like. He knows you better, perhaps, than you know yourself. There's no love there. You lost that ability long ago when you were a ratty street kid with a big mouth and bigger attitude. You don't need love, you only need the pain. You deserve it, you know you do and it's your punishment for pressing that button. You hide your emotions behind the walls every street rat builds, hiding your true face behind a cocky attitude, a loud laugh and lazy disposition. You hide your weaknesses behind a facade of sadistic cynicism. It's fine this way. This way no one needs to see the terror you hold deep within your heart, the terror of being known, the terror of losing everything that is precious to you. If you don't allow anyone to get past those barriers then you won't open yourself up to more pain. It's better to have never loved, to never be loved than to allow someone you love to tear you shreds. 

You want to forget, you want oblivion. You helped to bring the world into the sorry state its in and the disease that spreads like wild fire is on your conscience, weighing as heavily as lead. You used to love your job, the thrills, the blood on your hands, the comradery, but its over now. Everyone is gone or dead or who the fuck really knows? ShinRa, your home, your family, is scattered and nothing will ever be the same again. So, you go to him every night, despite the risks, despite the pain you know he's in. You let him bruise your skin, you let him draw the blood, you let him devour you until there's nothing left but agony. Perhaps, in some twisted way, he needs this just as much as you do but you've never discussed it. When he's done with you he orders you out like the dog you are, he doesn't even look at you. You don't need pity, you certainly don't want kindness. Only Rufus can give you the punishment you desire. You need it as badly as an addict needs his next fix. This isn't a suicide, it's not death, you don't want to die but you want the pain. Walking around in a state of acute numbness is worse than any other torture, you need to feel again, you need to see your own blood on your skin and know that you're alive. 

Everything's changed now, everything is different and you don't like it. Elena has Tseng, Rude has his crush on Tifa and you...you have Rufus' teeth, his cock, his body and the pain. Always the pain. The abuse and cruelty that you deserve and Rufus knows this, he accepts it as a part of who you are. That's good. There's no tenderness, you wouldn't want that. There's no love because the only love you need is from your friends, your tiny dark-suited family. 

You smile and laugh as easily as you ever did if only to stop Tseng from looking at you like you're going to break down at any given moment. You go out and have fun because isn't that what people expect? You're Reno of the Turks, you're the best, the fastest, the second in command. You have a certain image to live up to and so you put on your masks, you laze around, you annoy people and you continue to put one foot in front of the other and know that if this carries on you're going to fall apart. You drink now, not because it tastes of anything, but because you need the oblivion of unconsciousness. You don't sleep much anymore, not that anyone has noticed, you hide the shadows beneath your eyes, you force a smile and you get on with your job. It gets easier and easier to fake it, you look at Elena and wonder if she's aware that at night you lie awake and see the faces of the dead. You talk to Rude and wonder if he's suffering too. You see Tseng staring blankly out the window and know he's in just as much pain as you are. But none of you speak of it. It hangs over you all like a black cloud, Tseng's grief at Aerith's death, Elena's broken innocence, Rude's pained silences. You all know. You all are bound by this guilt. Being a Turk used to be easy, it used to be fun, now it's like you're dragging around a ball of steel attached to your ankle. Everyone fears you, you're not going to make any friends out there in the world, the only people you can truly rely on are your family. A family bound in heavy chains of guilt and pain and tragedy. Your pasts are dark, a bunch of tangled, misremembered shadows that sometimes press down on you like a cowl. You all share the terror, you all know the agony in one another's souls. 

Rufus has the Stigma and it adds more terror to your already heavy load. You don't show it in any obvious way but it's there in the way you clench your fists, it's there in the tenseness of your shoulders. Rufus was the man who gave you back your lives, you owe him far more than you've been able to give him. He rescued you all, he gave you a second chance and none of you are willing to throw that away. He's the same age as you, not that he knows that. None of the Turks' information is available to anyone, not even the president or his son. It was always that way. Rufus has never asked you about your past, your age or any other bit of personal information. Perhaps because he knows you would never tell him, or perhaps because he doesn't care. Not even Tseng knows that the day you first killed a man you were violently sick. Rude doesn't know that you still feel the blood splashing your face from when you stabbed him. You wonder frequently if anyone knows you at all, you're a concoction of lies and masks, sometimes even you forget who you really are. A terrified street kid doing everything he can to survive the terrors of the slums. You've only ever cried once and that was in front of Rude, neither of you acknowledged it, it was a moment of weakness that passed you both by and you pushed it from your mind. It was the night you caused the plate to fall, the night Cloud Strife beat you bloody. You lay on your sofa, bandages covering your body, a black eye, a gun shot wound to the leg and several broken fingers and you let the tears fall. Rude sat there in silence, his mere presence a comfort in the changing world. Solid, reliable and non-judgemental. That's Rude. That's your best friend. The one you love most in all the world. He was there when you leapt from the plate support into the helicopter, he caught you as you collapsed, covered in blood and grinning. He was there when you thought it was the end of the world, gazing up at the sky as light swirled around you both. He was there to help you search for Rufus when he was kidnapped, before the Stigma truly started raising its ugly black head. He's always been there. You can't live without him and he can't live without you. 

When you are with Rufus you can see the marks covering his pale skin and you cringe inwardly. He's in pain, you can see it in his eyes but he never lets on. He's never allowed anything to show on his face but amusement and anger. You look up into his eyes and swear to yourself you're not going to let him die, because if he dies you die. Everything dies with Rufus. Your world revolves around him, without him you have no purpose, nothing to live for. He's the one thing in this shitty excuse for a life that keeps you going and you're not going to give that up for the world. So, the time comes to make a phone call. To extend a hand of friendship towards those who used to count as enemies...

“Strife Delivery Service, how may I-”

“Do you remember me, yo?”

“Yes, I remember you, yo.”

And it begins like that. A simple phone call, your voice trembling only a little as you ask to speak to Cloud Strife. You sit on the sofa, head on one hand as Rufus sits in his wheel chair and watches you intently. The wheel has turned and it's time again to face the horrors of the past but perhaps, this time, you will choose the right side. This time, maybe, you can do some good in the world. Only problem is...Cloud's not there.


	2. Off The Edge of Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV Cloud

You want to answer the phone but you can't bring yourself to. You let it ring, feeling the vibrations through your hand as you stare blindly at the caller ID on the screen; Seventh Heaven. Tifa. Childhood friend, one time lover. The call ends and only then do you flick the cover open and put it to your ear, listening to her voice.

“Cloud? Reno called...he sounded kinda strange...”

You hang up. You can't talk to her or anyone else at the moment, it's too much. The church is quiet, the soft whisper of wind brushes through the flowers, stroking your cheek like a familiar hand and bringing with it the scent. You close your eyes, remembering her face. Green eyes, cheeky smile, long hair plaited with a pink ribbon. And, after the brief moment of joy that explodes in your chest like fireworks, the guilt comes. A wave of black, poisonous emotion that obliterates everything in its destructive path. She died because of you. You could have stopped it. You could have stood up to Sephiroth, fought him, died for her...anything. You stood there and watched as the sword pierced her chest, you watched the light die in her eyes and you did nothing. 

You sit there, arms over your head as if warding off a blow from above. You screw your eyes shut tightly, fighting against the pain, against the inevitable rush of anger and self-hatred that will flow over you like lava. You whisper her name into the silence of the church, no one replies.

“I'm...sorry...”

It's not good enough. It's never good enough. Talking to her, wishing desperately for an answer, a way for you to fall to your knees at her feet and grovel like the pathetic worm you are. There has to be more. Your apologies are meaningless to her, you know that as well as everyone else. Nothing you do will ever remove this stain from your conscience. You've always been tainted, from the moment you were born, a trouble maker, doing nothing but causing everyone pain. Even your mother cried every night because of the fights. You were hated and bullied and reviled but for good reason, you cannot hate those who picked on you anymore than you can hate Aerith. It's your fault. You were the one who caused the anger. It was because of you that Aerith died in the Forgotten City. You gave the Black Materia to Sephiroth, your weakness brought Meteor down upon the world and caused the disease to spread. It was your fault Zack died. You forgot your promise to never forget. You forgot who you were. You hid yourself behind a false personality, avoiding the pain and guilt of remembering Zack. Zack who died on a cliff, bloody and riddled with bullets. Zack who died to protect you, because you were always so weak.

The pain in your arm is becoming intolerable but you accept it. This is your punishment. This is the revenge of countless souls who suffered because of your weakness and stupidity. This is justice. You will die, eventually. You know it. Perhaps death is worth it, perhaps when you die you will meet Zack and Aerith again in the lifestream and finally be able to repay the debt. Maybe, someday soon, you'll be able to see his smile again, hear his voice. Maybe you'll be able to listen to her scold you, listen to her laugh and rest knowing that she's happy. It's all idle fantasy, however, because if there is such a thing as true justice, you don't deserve peace. You will never have rest and you don't deserve to be happy. You've caused so much pain and suffering to others, its high time you accepted it. 

You slide down the wall you're leaning against as agony flares up your arm. It's always the same, ever since you saw the tiny patch of black on your skin. Pain, hallucinations, self-doubt and guilt. It piles up on you until you feel the cracks giving out, you're going to collapse like a demolished building and you refuse to take anyone else down with you. So you left her, Tifa. You left her and Denzel and Marlene. You walked out of their lives because you can't live with the knowledge that your death will bring them pain. Eventually they will get over it, they'll move on. You're not worth the time spent on grieving anyway. Tifa knows something's wrong but she hasn't asked and you refuse to burden her with your problems. It's better this way. You can die alone. It's meant to be, you knew that from the moment you remembered Zack. Alone, forgotten and filled with guilt. Will this make them happy? Those who died because of you? It's very likely it will and that's good. Your death will serve as an apology, better than any empty words you could muster. You were never very good with words anyway. Nothing matters anymore. You'll die, you'll be forgotten and then the world will move on. There's no cure anyway. It's all for the best.

There's only one word to describe the feeling filling your chest as you slide down the wall and curl into a ball...

Despair.


	3. The Promised Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV Zack Fair

You may be little more than concentrated energy but you can see, hear and feel. You can take form. You can take the shape you once wore and it still fits you well. You could be happy if it weren't for the pain you're feeling from Cloud; you know what he's thinking, you know how he's feeling. You can see the agony he's in, you know he's dying and there's not a damned thing you can do about it. You wish you could return to some solid form, you wish you could pull him close and breath in his familiar scent. You want to hold him and remind him of how strong he is. You want to shake some some damned sense into the stupid little blond. It's not his fault! How could it be? You chose to sacrifice yourself. It was the only way he would have survived. That was obvious to anyone with eyes to see. It frustrates you that you're so helpless. You brought down most of ShinRa's army and now you can't even effect a particle in the world above, the world of the living. You hate it. You stomp around and growl and fume but ultimately it's all useless. You're no Cetra, you can't reach him. He's suffering and torturing himself for no damned reason and all your instincts are telling you to get back up there, to embrace him and remind him of what a hero he truly is. You can't, though. He's so alone and you can feel his pain as if it were your own, it makes you want to scream but you no longer really have a voice box to do that. 

You want to slap him. He's surrounded by great friends, he's got Tifa and the kids and the others but he doesn't see it. His pain is blinding him to the truth. He's not alone. He's never been alone. He blames himself for things no one could have helped and you can hear his desperate pleas, silent as they are, to end it all, but you hope no one answers. You hope Cloud wakes up soon to see the good he's done in the world, to see what a massive affect he's had on the people around him. He's a hero. He's strong and he's got so much love inside him it's so terribly sad to see him wasting it. 

Finally, you get your chance. Aerith gives you a way to him, just as he's weakening. Just as he's about to give up again, one last, fatal time...you can reach him. You break through the barriers of life and death and you tell him...

“Cloud...? Remember what I told you?”

“I'm...your living legacy.”

Unfortunately you don't get the chance to say what you truly wanted. The chance to say what you never got to say before...

I love you, Cloud.


End file.
